Under Copper Skies

Carolina Vasquez stood in front of her mirror as her cousin Teresa stood on a step stool behind her. Teresa ran a brush through Carolina’s wavy brown hair. The curls extended just below Caolina’s shoulders.
“Can I have one of your hair bands?” asked Teresa.
“Take this one,” replied Carolina. She handed her cousin the white elastic band with red stripes. It was her favorite. Teresa gathered up Carolina’s hair and fastened it into a ponytail.
“Do you like it?” asked Teresa.
Carolina picked up a hand mirror and looked at her hair. “It’s simply perfect.”
“Girls! Wash up, it’s almost time for dinner,” called Mrs. Vasquez.
The girls washed their hands and faces and rushed to the kitchen. Mrs. Vasquez was filleting fish while Aunt Beatriz buttered a pie pan.
“Mama, what are we having for dinner?” she asked.
“Ceviche, Papaya Fruit, and Cocoa Silk Pie for dessert.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“You girls can help if you’d like.”
“What do you want us to do?”
“We still need to cut up the Papaya.”
“I can do that,” said Carolina.
“What about me?” asked Teresa.
“You can stir the Cerviche,” replied Mrs. Vasquez.
Teresa fetched the step stool and placed it on the floor beside Mrs. Vasquez. She grabbed a spoon and stirred the ingredients in the mixing bowl. There were slices of lemon and lime, as well as chucks of raw fish meat.
“Why don’t we cook Cerviche?’ asked Teresa.
“Citrus acids from the fruits cook the meat..”
“How do they do that?”
“I don’t know, really. Beatriz, do you know?”
Aunt Beatriz shrugged her shoulders, “It is a chemical reaction between the acids in the fruit and the proteins in the meat, I suppose.”
Mrs. Vasquez gathered the Papaya and chopped it into tiny wedges while Teresa continued stirring the Cerviche, tasting it, and adding more spices as she saw fit.
Carolina stood with Aunt Beatriz, using a mortar and pestil to pound cocoa beans into a fine powder. Meanwhile, Aunt Beatriz whisked the butter, flower and eggs in a mixing bowl. Aunt Beatriz took a pinch of cocoa powder and rubbed it between her fingers.
“More, more, it has to be as fine as silk.”
Carolina ground the cocoa beans until the muscles in her arm wore out. Aunt Beatriz wet a finger and rolled it in the cocoa powder.
“Perfecto!” she exclaimed, then pointed her finger towards Carolina. Carolina licked the cocoa powder off her aunt’s finger and smiled. Aunt Beatriz dumped the powder into her mixing bowl and whisked until the filling was smooth and creamy.
She set it into the freezer and started making the dough. She dumped a cup of flour on the counter and made a canyon in the center of the mountain of flour. She poured water and eggs into the canyon and foled the ingredients into each other until a ball of dough formed in the center of the counter.
Aunt Beatriz kneaded and pounded on the dough ball, then rolled it flat. She placed the dough over the pie pan and cut off the excess.
“What now?” asked Carolina.
“We wait,” answered Aunt Beatriz.
Aunt Beatriz undid her apron and hung it on a kitchen chair. Everyone rinsed off their hands and went outside, where they sat on the patio. The first blush of sunset shone through the shaggy heads of the Sapote trees.
In the valley below, orange streetlights dotted the city of Arequipa. The cathedrals stood high above the shops and homes that surrounded them. The great volcano El Misti overlooked the cathedrals. In fact, El Misty overlooked the entire canyon.
It was only a little while until a pair of headlights shone through the trees surrounding the Vasquez home. A light blue pickup truck rumbled into the driveway, then rattled as the engine shut off. Carolina’s father and uncle stepped out.
As was the custom every Saturday, her father had spent the day fishing with her Uncle Artor. As the two men unloaded their fishing gear from the truck, the girls ran up and hugged them.
“We’re sure am glad to be home,” said Uncle Artor.
“We’re glad to see you too. How was your day?” asked Teresa.
“Good,” he answered.
“Good? It was lousy,” replied Carolina’s father. He held up the fish stringer. It was only holding two small black marlins.
But at least the weather was good,” said Uncle Artor. “We spent all day relaxing and talking. Who needs a lot of fish to get in the way of a good day of fishing?”
“Maybe the fish were relaxing, too,” said Carolina.
Uncle Artor laughed at his niece.
“Artor, I guess you are right. Even if we didn’t catch a single fish, we did have a great day. There is nothing I enjoy more than sitting on the fishing boat with you, drinking Pisco and fishing. Actually catching fish is only a bonus.”
“My dear brother Jose, now you understand why I fish. It’s about everything but catching fish.”
Aunt Beatriz went to the back door, then motioned for Carolina and Teresa. The girls followed her into the kitchen.
“Carolina, get the pie filling out of the freezer and spoon it into the pie shell. Teresa, grab the silverware and tablecloths and set the table. It’s a pleasant enough outside. We can eat on the porch.”
Carolina pulled the pie filling out of the ice box. It was half-frozen. She scooped the crunchy filling onto the pie crust and smoothed it out with the spoon.
“How does that look?”
“It looks delicious. Now please go out and help Teresa.”
Carolina carried the pie to the table and sat it in front of her father.
“Chocolate Pie!” exclaimed Carolina’s father.
“Papa, you know it’s Cocoa Pie.”
“What is the difference? Cocoa or chocolate?”
“There is a big difference. I smashed cocoa beans in a bowl until there was a silky fine powder.”
“Still, if it’s cocoa, it’s chocolate and if it’s chocolate, it’s cocoa.”
“Jose, if you don’t stop teasing your daughter, you’re not getting any pie,” scolded Aunt Beatriz as she set the Cerviche on the table. Carolina went back inside, gathered plates and bowls and finished setting the tables before settling herself at the dinner table.
Uncle Artor cleared his throat and clasped his hands together. Everyone joined him in prayer.
“Dear Lord, we have the blessing of a wonderful night to gather and share food with our beloved family. We would like to thank you for these blessings. In your name we pray, Amen.”
“Amen,” replied the rest of the family. Silver and chine clanged as plates were passed around the table. The plates were filled with Cerviche and Papaya, then cleaned again as everyone enjoyed dinner.
“Carolina?” asked Mr. Vasquez.
“Yes, Papa?”
“I’m sorry for teasing you. Could I have some of your Cocoa Silk Pie.”
“I’m not sure if I should,” replied Carolina.
“Carolina’s right,” added Aunt Beatriz, “you’re only apologizing because you have an empty space in your stomach and you’re wishing to fill it with Cocoa Silk Pie.”
“I would very much,” replied Carolina’s father.
Carolina stood up and cut the pie into six equal pieces. She served pieces of pie around the table. She gave the first piece to Teresa and the second to Aunt Beatriz, followed by her Uncle Artor, then her mother. When there were two pieces left, she served one to herself, then sat down in front of her plate.
“But…” begged her father.
Carolina dug her fork into the creamy pie filling. She held it just in front of her mouth and smiled at her father.
“Please?” he said.
Carolina’s smile turned into a slight frown. She put down her fork and stood up.
“It’s just because I love you, Papa.” Carolina placed the last piece on her father’s plate then sat down and began to enjoy her Cocoa Silk Pie.
“Mmmmm,” exclaimed her father. With each bite of Cocoa Silk Pie, his sounds were lounder and larger, as if he had not eaten in weeks.
“Alright Papa, we get it. Carolina accepts your apology. Please eat quietly,” said Aunt Beatriz.
They finished off the dessert and sat on the patio as night closed in around them. Finally, Uncle Artor went into the house and returned with his tobacco pipe. He lit a match and held it above the pipe as he lit the tobacco inside. With a puff, the tobacco glowed orange and hot. Uncle Artor drew several breaths, and then pulled the pipe away from his mouth, exhaling a cloud of gray smoke.
Uncle Artor stared at the rolling ridges of the Andes Mountains. As sunlight faded, the city below was lit only by the golden glow of streetlights. The beautiful white buildings glowed in the middle of the valley.
“When the Lord created Peru, he painted a magnificent painting, didn’t he?”
“He sure did, Uncle Artor. He sure did.”
The Vasquez family sat on the porch late into the night. Uncle Artor sat in his rocking chair and smoked his pipe. Aunt Beatriz worked on her cross-stitch. Meanwhile, Carolina’s mother and father lounged on the loveseat, watching the lights of Arequipa. The girls played games until they were finally shooed to bed at the end of another long day.